


Snuff Out The Light

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Belle French - Freeform, Multi, Other, Sadness, technically but she's dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: Emma and Killian hear the news that Belle has died and plan something to remember her.NOT Rumple friendly.





	Snuff Out The Light

“Emma,” Zelena asked in an urgent whisper. “Can we talk?” Emma was slightly shocked when she turned and saw the look on Zelena’s face. Over the years she had seen the wide spectrum of emotion painted onto her face; an evil, or rather wicked, glee, vengeful rage, a soft parental adoration when looking at Robin, heartbreak when Hades betrayed her, hurt when Regina cast her aside, triumphant smirks when she had even the smallest victory. But she had never seen the mixture of sorrow and fear the way it was now.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, and she let Zelena take her arm and pull her into the kitchen, where Killian was working on a stir-fry, leaving Henry and his new family in the living room, catching up with his grandparents and uncle. Killian looked up when he saw the Wicked Witch leading his wife by the hand into their shared kitchen. He and Zelena had had a fairly civil relationship since the end of the final battle, but they weren’t exactly friends. Not yet, at least.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. Zelena sighed and pushed Emma over to Killian so that they stood opposite her.

“I’m afraid not.” A pit formed in Emma’s stomach. She had never known Zelena to be afraid of saying anything; her willingness to speak her mind was something Emma had always admired about her. “There’s something you both need to know.”

“What is it?” Killian asked, slight alarm in his voice.

“It’s Belle,” Zelena began.

“Is she okay?” Emma asked. “Is she hurt?” When she looked at Killian she didn’t need him to talk to know where his mind was; he was thinking of the Dark One, of the time he crushed Milah’s heart in a fit of jealous rage. She had just enough faith in people to believe that he loved Belle enough to not hurt her, Killian was different.

“She’s dead.”

Emma had her fair share of grief. Cleo, Ingrid, Neal, Milah, Killian even for a brief time. She thought she’d be used to it by now. Yet hearing that Belle, sweet, amazing, wonderful Belle, was gone was different. Belle had always been the light of Storybrooke and even after she left with Rumple, her presence still lingered around. And now she was supposed to believe that light was just gone?

“How?” Killian asked, his voice trembling. “What happened to her?” The tension in his fist told Emma all she needed to know about where his mind was.

“She and the Dark One, they went to some place where time runs faster than it does here,” Zelena explained, her voice catching. “And she died of old age. He’s gone now too, so…”

“I doubt they’d be reunited,” Killian said darkly. “He’d end suffering the fate he deserves.” Emma’s hand immediately went to his shoulder, partially to comfort him and partially to ground herself. Zelena nodded and excused herself, leaving the two of them alone.

Emma turned to Killian and buried her head in his chest. His arms came around and held her tightly. She could hear his ragged breathing, felt him trying to hold himself together. She prayed Henry wouldn’t come in and see them, or his new family. She couldn’t tell him this right now. Did he even know?

“Is there a point in asking if you’re okay?” Emma asked. Killian gave a half-hearted chuckle before falling silent. “This fucking sucks.”

“It does,” he agreed, breaking the hug and leaning on the counter. “He did it. He got her all to himself. He won.”

“Oh my god,” Emma sighed, running her hand through her face. Another thought occurred to her, practically smacking her in the face. “Her dad.”

“Oh shit.”

“We’ll have to tell him,” she said, on the verge of tears now. She choked and began sobbing, and she tried so hard to sound as quiet as she possibly could. She couldn’t deal with her parents right now. She felt Killian’s fingers wiping her tears and she wrapped her hands round his hook. She didn’t need to tell him anything. They just held each other up, being each other’s strength. She had always thought that Killian, her parents, Elsa and Henry were the glue that was holding her together. But Belle, Belle was there too. She had been the smallest but most important piece, not just for her, but for the town too.

And now she was gone.

Emma and Killian dragged themselves to the flower shop the next day. As ridiculous as it sounded, Emma hated what a beautiful day it was. She hated the fact that the sun was shining and how blue the sky was and how beautiful the warmth felt on her skin and how there were little kids dancing up and down the street in shorts and bright t-shirts. She wished to god it was pouring rain and that it was so cold she was numb.

She dragged herself up the path to Moe’s flower shop, her stomach twisting with every step she took. By the time she got to the door she worried she was going to vomit all over Moe when she saw him.

“Emma, Killian,” he greeted. “This is a surprise. Come on in.” Emma walked in numbly; the smell of flowers overwhelmed her. “What can I do for you? Anniversary, birthday?”

“It’s not a business call I’m afraid, sir,” Killian interrupted, his voice trembling. “It’s, well it’s about Belle….”

“What about her?” he asked. “Is she home, is she back?” His face lit up and Emma’s heart broke.

“She…. I’m afraid she….” Emma grabbed Killian’s hand and gave her a slight shake of her head. She could take this for him, god knows he had taken enough for her.

“Belle’s dead,” she whispered. Now that she had said it out loud, it finally hit her full force. There was no changing it, no hope that it was a mistake and she’d jump through a portal, just like the day she last saw her.

Moe sank onto his chair. She remembered when she thought Henry was dead, so many years ago when Regina poisoned him. That grief was unimaginable.

“How?” he asked. “How did it happen, who told you?”

“Zelena,” Emma whispered. “She said that she and-and Rumple they went to some place where time run slower than it does here. And Zelena said she died of old age.” The mere mention of Rumple sent flashes of rage into Moe’s eyes. She thought she should have moved forward and comforted him but she found herself rooted to the very spot she stood. Then when Moe buried his head in his hands and she could hear faint sobs, all she could do was grab Killian and bolt out of there after a small “I’m sorry”.

Killian thought he had kicked the habit after he joined the Navy. Then Liam died, and he found himself back at the bottom of a rum barrel. Then he met Milah and thought he finally had enough to pull himself back out of it. Then she died and like clockwork, he was back. Three centuries of endless drunken nights and dark thoughts. Since he met Emma he started getting help. Real help, going to meetings, talking it out, going through those withdrawal symptoms with Emma rubbing his back as he vomited into their toilet. He was getting better.

And here he was, just like clockwork, nearly midnight, sitting in their kitchen, taking swing after swing of rum. His flask was nearly empty now and since neither he nor Emma would buy rum anymore, he’d have to turn to the bottles of wine in the fridge.

He always found the drink strangely soothing. When he was a teenager it numbed the pain after a beating. He had hoped it would have the same effect on his grief, dial it down, make it unnoticeable. And it did, after a while. Eventually it got to a point where the alcohol worked its magic and blocked out everything, so that all he felt was numbness in the pit of his stomach. As unpleasant as that was, it was a lot better than the raging anger he felt.

He was yet to reach that point.

It wasn’t fair. Of all the people who had to die, Belle was at the bottom of the list. And at the top of the list was…... him.

Milah had told him about what life with Rumpelstiltskin had been like. How trapped and scared she felt, how she felt like she was suffocating. He had held her as she cried, calmed her when panic attacks set in, sat next to her while she curled up in their shared bunk, refusing to say a thing to anyone. Belle had been more reserved, back when she lived on the Jolly she showed far more concern for her child than herself, but there was more than one occasion where he woke her from a nightmare and held her, telling her over and over again it was all okay.

Except now the nightmare had been real, and she lived it for decades apparently.

It was his fault. He was supposed to protect her, supposed to stop this from happening again, make sure she never had to suffer again. And yet here they were, her likely six feet under.

He should have stopped her. He woke up the morning after Gideon’s birthday party to find a letter from her on his doorstep from her, telling him how she was going away with Rumple and he didn’t want to wait, thanking him for being such a good friend to her and not to worry, she’d come back soon enough, and she couldn’t wait to see him again and fill him in on everything. He waited for her every day, looking out at the town line. Weeks went by, then months. He gave up after a year had passed.

He had believed that the Crocodile had changed just enough to believe that he wouldn’t harm Belle. He had just enough faith to think that Rumple would put Belle before him at some point.

 _Idiot_ , he thought.

A noise from the door caught his attention; he looked up to see Emma leaning on the door frame, looking the rum bottle with sadness over her face, rubbing the back of her neck. More guilt crashed over Killian then.

“Emma, look, I know I shouldn’t have done it…..” he began, but Emma shook her head, cutting him off. She pulled out a chair and sat herself beside him.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Given the circumstances.” She took his hand and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I know she meant a lot to you.”

“She meant a lot to everyone,” Killian said softly. Emma squeezed his hand. Belle was probably his best friend, he almost saw her as younger sister, and she knew that. “I can only hope that he didn’t…… he treated her well.”

Emma nodded, her lips set into a thin line. They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being their attempts to stop crying.

“Do you feel guilty?” he asked between sobs. “Guilty that we didn’t stop her?”

“A little,” Emma admitted, nodding. “I keep telling myself there wasn’t anything either of us could do to stop her and it was her choice but…” She didn’t need to say anything else. Killian ran his hand through his hair, a million thoughts buzzing around his mind. He thought, in some way, it was a blessing that the Crocodile was dead, because if he was alive, he wasn’t sure anyone would be able to stop him from driving his hook into Rumpelstiltskin’s chest and watching the life fade from him.

But this wasn’t about him or how he felt. This was about Belle.

“We should do something for her,” he said in a faint voice. “To remember her.” Emma nodded.

“Nothing too flashy though.”

“She’d hate that,” he said, a sad grin on his face. He tried to think of something they could do for her, something unique, something she deserved. His eyes were drawn to the notebook sitting on the table. It wasn’t anything special, just something Emma used to keep track of errands and groceries and the like. Normal things. “I think I have an idea.”

                                                                                                                *****

Emma and Killian were standing at the side of the lake, Henry and her parents with them. Ruby, having returned from Oz while Henry was away, was burying her head in Dorothy’s shoulder and holding onto her for dear life, while a distraught Granny rubbed her hands up and down her granddaughter’s back. Mother Superior was there too, along with a group of fairies Belle had befriended, and Ariel too. And of course, Moe French, with a pale face and bags under his eyes and the bulge of a cigarette packet in his pocket.

“Suppose we should start this, then?” Killian mumbled to Emma. She nodded and released his jacket from her vice-like grip. When she stepped forward, the crowd all turned to face her.

“We’re here today,” she said. “Because we loved Belle in our own ways. She was a friend, a daughter, a colleague. But she was a hero, above everything else. And she was one of us. Belle stood for seeing the best in people no matter what. She believed that no matter how bad a person was they could change. And I don’t know if I ever agreed with her on that, but I love that she thought that. She was brave and tough as nails, but she was also kind. She did what was best for her and Gideon. You didn’t have to ask twice if you wanted her help. And that’s all you could have ever asked for in a person. Belle was one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I hope she knew that.” The crowd gave Emma some scattered applause and she nodded to Killian, letting him take his turn.

“It would be an understatement to say that Belle and I had a rocky beginning,” Killian began. “And if I was in her place I’m not sure I’d be as forgiving. But she did forgive me, because that is who she is. Someone who believed in people, even when they didn’t believe in themselves. I remember the days when I truly started to bond with her, those days we spent together in the library. And I learned that she had an adventurer inside her; she’d just sit and point out all the places she had read about that she wanted to see. And I hope that in the end she saw everything she wanted to see. I hope that she felt as much happiness and light as she put out into the world. And I hope that wherever she is now, she’s happy.”

As the crowd gave another scattered round of applause, Emma and Killian turned to the lake. She grasped his hook, steadying them both. In their hands were the paper boats they had decided to make the day before. Killian’s was painted to look like the sea, with the words “never forget you” written on the side. Emma had painted hers with gold and pink and written the words “rest in power”. They stepped forwards and placed them on the water, letting them float downstream. Her family and Moe and Belle’s friends placed theirs on the lake and within the minutes there was a small fleet of paper boats floating down on the water.

“Hey,” Snow said softly, having crept to Emma’s side. “This is beautiful. She’d have loved this.”

“Thanks Mom,” Emma said, grasping her mother’s hand.

They watched the boats float along, farther and father until they became hard to see.

“Why don’t we all head down to the diner?” Granny said, trying to sound upbeat. “I’ve got some sandwiches made, and we can crack open some bottles.” Everyone murmured in agreement and began walking to the diner in near silence. Killian didn’t move, still watching the boats moving along.

“Hey,” Emma whispered, tugging on his arm. “Come on, it’ll be better than standing out there.” Still dazed, Killian let Emma led him to the diner. She could see it in his eyes; this had been it for him, like it had been for her in the flower shop. It made it real.

Storybrooke went back to the diner and drowned their sorrows in tea and coffee and cocoa and alcohol and biscuits, all the while sharing their favourite memories of Belle.

The next week, Geppetto fashioned a wooden plaque over the door of the library, reading “In loving memory of Belle French, who kept this library alive”.


End file.
